


Finding Home

by a_cool_username



Series: Home [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asexual Aaron Burr, Asexual Characters, Foster Care, I'm Sorry, Internalized Homophobia, Past Rape/Non-con, Please be nice, This is trash, Trans Alexander Hamilton, Trans Male Character, this is my first fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-11-14 17:43:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11213034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_cool_username/pseuds/a_cool_username
Summary: How everyone found the Washingtons.How they found home.





	1. I Hope You're Satisfied

**Author's Note:**

> I know I know we don't need another foster care AU I'm sorry.
> 
> This is my first fic so it's probably trash again I'm sorry. Please give me constructive criticism in the comments, I would love to hear your thoughts. Also, if i represent something in a way that is wrong or offensive, please tell me.
> 
> Any trigger warnings will be in this section.
> 
> I'll try to update once a week (this goes for the rest of the series too once this work is done)
> 
> Enjoy, I guess?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angelicaaaaaaaa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys seemed to like it so... here's Chapter Two?
> 
> Also the title is just *cringe*
> 
> *****TW for child abuse and alcoholism*****  
> Your health is more important than my fanfic stay safe my lovelies

Angelica Schuyler was terrified.

She was scared for Peggy. She was scared for Eliza. She was scared for their house and their things. She was even a little bit scared for her dad, although at this point she was mostly just scared _of_ him. 

She was scared and sweaty and cramped. She was curled up in the fetal position under her dad's desk, listening to him stomp around and shatter things. A few minutes ago he had called her in to "talk" with her. When she walked into his office, he had been clutching a bottle of Jack Daniel's in his hand, muttering and pacing. Then-

"Angelica!" her father roared suddenly, cutting off her train of thought. She poked her head timidly out from under the desk. He was angry, she could see it, and when his dark eyes landed on her, his mouth twisted into a cruel snarl.

"Yes, sir?" Her voice was small and shaky, not as confident as she would've liked it to sound.

"Get out here, Angie." His voice was calmer, but almost seemed more dangerous. There was something dark and menacing about it. A terror-stricken Angelica slowly crawled from under the desk, all lanky, awkward limbs, and stood up to her full height, still almost a foot shorter than he was, despite having grown quite a bit recently.

"Why were you hiding, Angie? You can tell me the truth." She might have thought that her father was calming down, but there was still an angry tone in his voice, almost like a growl.

"I-I don't know, sir."

"Tell me the truth, girl." His words were like knives.

"Y-y-you were smashing things, sir. I-I thought - I w-was a little scared, sir. I thought you might hurt me again." She didn't even bother to try to keep the pitiful quiver out of her voice this time.

"YOU WERE SCARED OF ME? I'LL TEACH YOU TO BE SCARED OF ME, IDIOT GIRL!" Angelica turned her face away and threw her hands over her head.

"N-no, sir, please, no, please, I'm sorry," she whimpered. Her father grabbed her hands and slapped her across the cheek. The force of the blow nearly knocked her backwards. Tears started dripping down her face, which only made her father angrier. He threw her against the wall and she felt a terrible pain in her arm, worse than anything she had ever felt before. Despite her blurring vision, she looked up with the intent of saying something to her father. What she saw nearly made her scream.

At her shocked look and slight gasp, Angelica's father whirled around. He started advancing on the other girl, who was dressed in a dainty blue nightgown. He raised his arm, about to strike.

"No." The word escaped her lips before she could stop it. Gathering whatever small amount of courage she had left, she finished her phrase. "Not Eliza. Please, sir, hit me instead. Just not Eliza. Please." She closed her eyes, bracing herself for the next blow. It never came. Instead, she felt hot breath on her neck and a low, dangerous whisper in her ear.

"You do not tell me what to do. You do not get to say no to me. Do you understand?"

"Y-Yes Sir," Angelica whimpered. A quick, stinging blow landed on her cheek. A few seconds later, she heard a sharp cry. She opened her eyes just in time to see Eliza, with a large red welt on her face, crumple to the floor.

And that was when Angelica Schuyler fainted.

* * *

 For the next few hours, Angelica drifted in and out of consciousness. She remembered only flashing blue lights, tear-stained faces, bustling paramedics, and itchy sheets. The only thing she remembered clearly was her father's last words to her

He was in handcuffs, being dragged away by two police officers. As he passed her, he had turned, a cold snarl on his face and a fiery sort of madness in his eyes, a terrifying mixture of calculatedly cruel and blindly raging. He had mouthed the words "I hope you're satisfied." With a strange feeling inside that chilled her to her very core, Angelica once again faded into unconsciousness.

* * *

 When she woke up, the first thing Angelica saw was her sister's worried faces hovering over her. Then, in quick succession, she became aware of the bright light, the chemical smell, and the itchy cast on her arm. With just a bit of a struggle and some help from her sisters, she sat up. she took in their solemn faces, Eliza's slightly bloodstained nightgown, Peggy's bright yellow T-shirt obscured with dirt, and the white room around her.

Eliza was the first one to break the silence. "I'm glad you're finally awake, we've been so worried. I... I'm so sorry. If I had just done what you told me to, if I had stayed in our room-"

"I might still be lying on the floor of his office with a broken arm. Enough about me. Are you okay? Come here, let me see your face."

Eliza obediently moved closer to the hospital bed, allowing Angelica to inspect her face. "One of the doctors checked it out. Said it would probably just bruise, nothing too serious."

"Good. Um.. so... how, exactly, did we get here?"

Peggy nervously stepped forward."I called the ambulance. I followed 'Liza down, got there about a minute after she did. If only i had gotten there sooner..."

"Had you been there a single second sooner, he would have hurt you too." Angelica refused to have her little sisters feel as though any of this were either of their faults. It was no one's fault but her own. It was  _her_ job to protect them,  _her_ job to make sure they weren't hurt. She was about to tell them this when a nurse peeked in and interrupted.

"Girls, you have a visitor." All three of them tensed. Who could possibly visiting them? It wasn't their dad... _Oh god was it their dad? Nonononononono it can't be nonononononononononono-_

Thankfully, it wasn't their father. In fact, their visitor was about as far from their father as possible.

"Hello girls. I'm Mrs. Matrone. Since, as of an hour ago, your father has officially lost custody of you, I am your social worker. I will do everything I can to help you find a caring new home." The brown-haired woman smiled gently. Angelica couldn't tell how sincere it was. 

"Hello, Mrs. Matrone. I'm Angelica, and these are my sisters Eliza and Peggy." She gestured towards her sisters as she introduced them, and they waved. "We are incredibly grateful to have you helping us." She decided that she couldn't trust this woman yet. Mrs. Matrone nodded in a businesslike manner.

"I need to ask you girls a few questions. I understand that these may be difficult subjects to think about, but we do need to have the information. Is this the first time your father abused you?" Angelica sucked in a deep breath,

 _Oh._ Visions flashed before her eyes, and she felt tears building behind her eyes.  _No. Stay strong. Stay strong for your sisters._

"For Eliza, yes. For me, no. It's happened before. At least a few times a week for the past, I'd say, maybe five-ish months. There were other things too, though. He was emotionally abusive, mostly to me but definitely to Eliza and Peggy too for a lot longer. He would threaten to hurt me, or to hurt them, among other things." Angelica thought she sounded pretty confident. Maybe it was her imagination, but Mrs. Matrone seemed a bit less stiff when she answered.

"Thank you. I know that must have been hard to say." The questions continued, and, with the help of her sisters, Angelica answered them as honestly as possible.

"That's all for now, girls. Angelica, you're supposed to stay here for another day. Peggy, Eliza, you can stay here with her, or you can come with me. For now, you'll be staying at a shelter." Angelica tensed. She couldn't stay here alone.

"I think we'll stay here, if that's alright." She breathed a sigh of relief at Eliza's answer. The social worker smiled gently.

"Of course. I'll come get you three tomorrow."

* * *

"Beauty and the Beast?"

"No, Eliza, I'm sick of Disney."

"How dare you insult the great name of Disney!" Peggy exclaimed with fake indignation. 

"Dishonor on you! Dishonor on your cow!" Peggy and Eliza both fell off the bed, laughing hysterically, as Angelica rolled her eyes and continued scrolling through Netflix on their shared laptop. Peggy sat up suddenly.

"Hey, how about Mulan? You know you love that movie, Angelica." As sick as Angelica was of Disney, her younger sisters' puppy eyes were impossible to say no to. And she  _did_ love Mulan.

"Fine."

About half an hour into the movie, someone knocked on the door. Angelica reached over and paused the movie. It was 6:45, a bit late for anyone to be visiting.

"Come in!" she called. To Angelica's surprise, it was Mrs. Matrone who opened the door. Angelica grinned at the appearance of their now-beloved social worker. They had been at the shelter for several months, and despite Angelica's initial misgivings, it had been hard not to grow fond of her.

"Good news, girls! We've found someone who wants to foster you for a while. I know that things tend to be very crowded and busy here, and I think you would be much happier at a foster home. Mr, George Washington is here to meet you, if you would like." After a couple beats of silence, Angelica was about to ask Mrs. Matrone to leave so that they could talk it over, but then Eliza spoke up.

"We would love to meet him, Mrs. Matrone." Angelica shot a slightly irritated glance toward her sister before realizing that that was probably what would've happened anyway. Upon finally arriving at the wooden door of Mrs. Matrone's office, the full magnitude of what was happening finally dawned on Angelica.  _He wants to foster us. We might have a home._

When Angelica set eyes upon George, she panicked a bit. His build was incredibly similar to that of a certain other man, but even bigger and more muscular, if that was possible. The two also shared the same dark eyes and strong jaw. Looking at him, it was hard not to be reminded of the reason they needed a foster home in the first place. Even the kindness of his words didn't calm Angelica's racing mind.

"Hey girls! I'm George Washington, it's a pleasure to meet you." Angelica felt a sudden need to take control of the situation, whether because of Washington or her desire to protect her sisters, she couldn't tell,

"The pleasure is ours, Mr. Washington. I'm Angelica-" Her sisters cut her off. 

"Peggy." True to character, Peggy sounded a bit nervous around the stranger. She was expecting a similar response from Eliza, but-

"Eliza. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Washington." Her voice was strong and sure, and she shocked Angelica even further by sticking out her hand and giving Mr. Washington a firm handshake. Angelica looked at Peggy, who had an identical open-mouthed expression to Angelica's. Throughout the conversation, Eliza continued to surprise by being more confident than Angelica had ever seen her. The girls were told that they could be living with the Washingtons withing under a week. They all enthusiastically agreed that they wanted to live with them. After Angelica and Peggy had said there goodbyes, joined just a moment later by Eliza, they all stood there for a second, taking in what had happened.

"I guess we have a home now," Angelica remarked. Her sisters smiled, and when Peggy answered, her voice was happier than any of them had been in a while.

"I guess we do."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is awful I'm sorry school just ended hopefully the chapters will get better/longer from here on out


	2. Helpless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliiiiiiiiza

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's Chapter Three! School is over so I have a lot more energy and motivation, I feel like this chapter is a lot better than the first two. Thank you for all the support and constructive criticism I've been getting in the comments, I really appreciate it! Also, Angelica's chapter will be updated to match this one ASAP.
> 
> *****TW for alcoholism and child abuse*****  
> Stay safe!

"Stay in here, 'Liza. Everything's gonna be fine." With a quiet click, Angelica was gone.

Eliza paced the worn wooden floors of her room, repeating her older sister's words over and over in her head.

_Stay in here, 'Liza. Everything's gonna be fine. Stay in here, 'Liza. Everything's gonna be fine._

"Stay in your room. It's not that hard," Eliza murmured to herself. But it was. It was extremely hard to stay in her room when she could hear the heavy footsteps and shattering glass that, at this point, Eliza was well aware meant that her father was drunk. Knowing that Angelica was downstairs with him, knowing what could be happening to her.

Knowing that she was helpless.

She kept pacing for who knows how long. Her head was filled with horrible images of Angelica hurt, beaten, bloodied, dead. Every inch of her was longing to run downstairs and make sure her sister was okay. But Angelica had told her to stay in her room, and she would do  _anything_ for Angelica, anything at all.

But when she heard a whimper come from downstairs, she was standing outside her father's office before she knew what she was doing. Luckily, her father's back was towards her, so she wasn't noticed. But she almost let out a gasp when she saw Angelica laying on the floor, clearly-broken arm hanging at an awkward angle, a large bruise on her face, blood dripping from her nose down her face. It was painful to see, but it didn't exactly come as a surprise. Angelica had never told her anything was happening, but Eliza had suspected that something of this nature had been going on for quite some time. Then her father turned towards her.

 _Crap._  

He started advancing towards her, clearly enraged. Then came Angelica's soft voice. "No. Not Eliza. Please, sir, hit me instead. Just not Eliza. Please."

Her father turned back around. He walked over to Angelica, whispered something to her, then hit her. Eliza winced. Then, in the blink of an eye, Eliza was on the floor, blood dripping down her cheek. Her father stormed out of the room, going god-knows-where. Eliza could only pray that he would leave Peggy alone.

She laid there for what felt like hours, but logically knew was only minutes, before a paramedic kneeled down beside her. 

"Hey. Are you okay?" His voice was gentle, reassuring. Eliza couldn't help but relax a little. She slowly propped herself up on her elbows.

"Y-Yeah. I'm fine. Just... just a little shaken up, I guess. And, well, this." She pointed to the blood on her face, giving a rueful laugh.

"It doesn't look too bad. We'll just clean it off and get a bandage on it. Your sister though..." He pursed his lips in a way that clearly meant 'I-shouldn't-have-said-that.' Clearly to Eliza, at least. She had always been good at reading people.

"What? Is Angelica okay? Is- What happened to her?" The paramedic smiled softly.

"Don't worry, sweetie. She'll be fine. Just might take a little longer to get her fixed up. We're pretty sure her arm is broken. Don't worry, though, everything's gonna be okay. We should get her to the hospital. Can you stand up?" Eliza stood up shakily. 

"Let's go."

* * *

"Eliza! Eliza, she's waking up." Peggy's hushed voice felt so warm, so human, so familiar in contrast to the stark whiteness of the hospital room. Eliza rushed over to the hospital bed as Angelica slowly opened her eyes. For a second the three of them were silent. Then Eliza spoke up.

"I'm glad you're finally awake, we've been so worried. I... I'm so sorry. If I had just done what you told me to, if I had stayed in our room-" Angelica frowned at her sister's words.

"I might still be lying on the floor of his office with a broken arm. Enough about me. Are you okay? Come here, let me see your face." Eliza moved closer to her sister.

"One of the doctors checked it out. Said it would heal pretty quickly, nothing too serious."

"Good. Um.. so... how, exactly, did we get here?" That was when Peggy finally spoke up.

"I called the 911. I followed 'Liza down, got there about a minute after she did. If only i had gotten there sooner..." Angelica frowned again, and this time Eliza joined her. She opened her mouth to speak when Angelica did it for her.

"Had you been there a single second sooner, he would have hurt you too." She seemed like she was going to say something else, when a nurse interrupted.

"Girls, you have a visitor." Eliza was certain that, in that moment, all three of them were thinking the same thing.  _Dad is back_.

A kind-looking woman, who Eliza guessed was about thirty-five, stepped into the room. Her eyes weren't unfriendly, but lacked any sort of warmth or light, which made Eliza reluctant to trust her. Her smile didn't seem entirely fake, but it looked more pitying than happy or kind, or even sympathetic.

"Hello girls. I'm Mrs. Matrone. Since, as of an hour ago, your father has officially lost custody of you, I am your social worker. I will do everything I can to help you find a caring new home." 

"Hello, Mrs. Matrone. I'm Angelica, and these are my sisters Eliza and Peggy." The two other girls waved as their names were mentioned. "We are incredibly grateful to have you helping us." Angelica's smile, on the other hand, was completely fake.

"I need to ask you girls a few questions. I understand that these may be difficult subjects to think about, but we do need to have the information. Is this the first time your father abused you?" Eliza bit her tongue and glanced toward Angelica. Her older sister took a sharp breath in before replying. 

"For Eliza, yes. For me, no. It's happened before. At least a few times a week for the past, I'd say, maybe five-ish months. There were other things too, though. He was emotionally abusive, mostly to me but definitely to Eliza and Peggy too for a lot longer. He would threaten to hurt me, or to hurt them, among other things." Angelica's voice never so much as quivered, and her face looked like stone, but Eliza could tell that her older sister was struggling to hold back tears. Mrs. Matrone's face was much softer and warmer now, and filled with concern.

"Thank you. I know that must have been hard to say." She asked a few more questions, about their financial situation ("We have always been very wealthy"), their father's drinking ("Very serious"), and a couple about their mother("She was an angel"). 

"That's all for now, girls. Angelica, you're supposed to stay here for another day. Peggy, Eliza, you can stay here with her, or you can come with me. For now, you'll be staying at a shelter."

"I think we'll stay here, if that's alright." Eliza wouldn't even think about leaving Angelica here alone.

"Of course. I'll come get you three tomorrow."

* * *

Three sharp knocks rang out on the wooden door of the Schuyler's bedroom. Angelica paused the movie they were watching.

"Come in!" Mrs. Matrone opened the door and walked inside. The girls smiled at the sight of her. In the few months that they had been in foster care the four had grown much closer.

"Good news, girls! We've found someone who wants to foster you for a while. I know that things tend to be very crowded and busy here, and I think you would be much happier at a foster home. Mr, George Washington is here to meet you, if you would like." The girls looked at each other, trying to read the other's faces. Eliza saw her sisters' slightly reluctant, but still hopeful eyes, and quickly made a decision for the three of them, something that was rather out of character for her.

"We would love to meet him, Mrs. Matrone." The three girls got up and followed the older woman down a maze of carpeted hallways to her office. Upon opening the door they found a rather large, somewhat intimidating man sitting in a leather armchair, tapping his fingers on his leg impatiently.

"Hey girls! I'm George Washington, it's a pleasure to meet you." His voice was deep, rich, and had a sort of warmth to it that, along with the playful but reassuring twinkle in his eyes, made Eliza like him immediately. However, she could sense that her sisters were still a bit wary of him. Nevertheless, Angelica, as usual, was the one to take charge of the situation.

"The pleasure is ours, Mr. Washington. I'm Angelica-"

"Peggy."

"Eliza. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Washington." Eliza stuck out her hand with a smile. Both her sisters looked mildly surprised at their normally shy sister's confident behavior, but Eliza was determined to make a good impression. George chuckled and shook Eliza's hand.

"Please, girls, call me George." 

The five of them talked for over an hour. Apparently, extensive background checks had already been done, and while there was still more paperwork and finalization to be done, it would only be a matter of days before the sisters were able to go to George's house. The girls bid him farewell.

"Thank you, Mr. Washington."

"Bye. I guess we'll see you pretty soon." 

Eliza stuck behind for a moment after her sisters had gone. "Thank you so much, George. We really appreciate it. I'm sure we'll love staying with you."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you so much for all the support. As always, please leave your thoughts and opinions in the comments, I love to hear your feedback.
> 
> Also, do you guys like Eliza's ~special ability~ to read people? Should I keep that?


	3. Daddy Said

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AND PEGGY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY THIS IS LIKE AN ETERNITY LATE I'M THE WORST
> 
> The posting schedule will be mostly back to normal now, if anyone is actually still reading this.
> 
> *****TW for child abuse*****

Peggy woke up at the sound of Eliza leaving the room. She could tell something was wrong, because instead of carefully opening the door, tiptoeing out of the room, and softly shutting the door behind her like she usually would, she had run (rather loudly) out of the room and left the door wide open behind her. That, and the gentle sobbing she heard from downstairs. She slipped out of her bed and walked downstairs silently, a skill she had acquired from living with her alcoholic and hot-tempered father who, depending on his state of drunkenness, might explode at the smallest things like Peggy waking up to get water.

As she plodded down the polished wooden halls, still half asleep, she incredibly thankful for the soft slippers that muffled her less-than-graceful footsteps. She rounded a corner and found herself standing outside her father's office. Her view was partially obscured by the powder blue and raven black of Eliza's nightgown and hair, but she could clearly see the bruises and pain on Angelica's terror-stricken, blood-stained face, and her awkwardly bent arm. For a moment she was stunned by the sight, trying to take in the reality of what was happening. But as soon as her father started turning around, Peggy sprang into action.

As quickly as she could while still being quiet, she made her way back to her bedroom and picked up her phone. She dialed 911, on the verge of tears. 

"911, what's you're emergency?" the voice on the other side responded. It was emotionless and disinterested, almost robotic-sounding, but it was reassuring nonetheless. 

"My dad, he, he's h-hitting my sisters. I think he broke one of their arms. I... I don't know what to do." Peggy struggled to keep from breaking down completely. She could already feel tears slipping down her cheeks.

"Where are you located?" Peggy was about to tell the woman her address when she heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. 

"400 Main Street. I have to go, he's coming," Peggy whispered breathlessly.Before the woman could respond, she hung up and, after a moment of panic, practically jumped back into bed and threw the covers over herself. She heard her father's drunken stumbling come closer to her bed. Upon seeing that she was asleep, he made his way back out of the room, crashing into several things as he did.

"Only one that stayed where she wuz suppozto. I'll let er go fer tunite," came his inebriated mumbling, words slurred and running together. As soon as he was a safe distance away, Peggy let all her emotions go. She started sobbing, shoulders shaking and face soaked. She still made a (somewhat successful) attempt to be quiet. She laid there, a blubbering mess, until she heard sirens outside. She slipped out of her bed and walked downstairs and outside, to meet the police and paramedics that were there.

First, she led the paramedics on shaking legs to her father's study, where Eliza and Angelica were both laying on the floor, Angelica unconscious and Eliza covered in blood. Peggy promptly ran to the bathroom and vomited. Then, after cleaning herself up, she directed the police to where she suspected her father would be. After a thorough interrogation from several police officers, she saw Eliza stumble out of the house.

"Liza!" she yelled, tears returning to her eyes at the sight of her bloodied sister. Eliza looked around, confused, before breaking into a sprint at the sight of her younger sister.

"Pegs!" Eliza grabbed Peggy in a hug, and didn't let go for a few seconds. "Oh, Pegs, I was so worried. Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did he-" Peggy could tell that Eliza would't stop her worried tangent until someone stopped her, so she interrupted.

"Liza, I'm fine. It's okay. What about you? Are you okay?" Peggy looked worriedly at the cut on her sister's face. It didn't look too bad, not deep and only bleeding slightly, but Peggy was concerned anyway. "How's Angelica?"

"I'm fine. It's just a little cut. Angelica, well, her arm, it's probably broken. She needs to go to the hospital." At this point, the girls embraced once again, both holding back tears. They were interrupted by a commotion near the front door. The two girls looked over to the source of the noise and saw their older sister being carried out on a stretcher. Peggy sucked in a deep breath.

"Let's go, then."

* * *

Peggy glanced over at her sister, Eliza, who was dozing in one of the chairs at the far side of the hospital room. Peggy let her rest, figuring that she must be beyond exhausted. They all were. Her two older sisters may have been asleep, but Peggy was far from it. She'd raced to the side of Angelica's hospital bed the moment she'd been let in and had been flitting back and forth between her sisters since then, with only occasional quiet chats with doctors and nurses and one trip to the vending machine to get water.

Another doctor knocked on the partially open door.

"Yes?" Peggy stage-whispered, not wanting to wake her sisters.

"Sorry. We got some updates on your sister's arm. The break is pretty clean, not too bad, so it should only take about six weeks to heal. When she wakes up, just press that button over there, okay?"

"Got it. Thank you," Peggy replied, and the doctor hurried out of the room.

* * *

Peggy quietly pressed the small metal button on the wall, then woke Eliza. Angelica's eyes had started to flutter open after almost an hour of sleeping, during which Eliza had drifted between groggy but awake, and a fitful sleep and Peggy had barely blinked. Peggy and Eliza stood with bated breath as their older sister slowly came to.

"Angie-" Words were sitting on the very tip of Peggy's tongue, ready to tumble out of her mouth in a breathless rush. But, probably without realizing it, Eliza cut her off, saying something about how it was all her fault.

_Right,_ Peggy thought. _I don't matter._

The two eldest Schuylers continued to talk for a couple minutes, each insisting that it was their fault, before Angelica asked how they'd gotten to the hospital, and Peggy bitterly though that, if it weren't for her, they would both still be lying on the ground of their dad's office, and-

_Peggy. Stop._ She had to snap herself out of the cycle of cynical thinking that she so often slipped into before replying.

"I called the ambulance. I followed 'Liza down, got there about a minute after she did. If only I had gotten there sooner..." A wave of guilt suddenly rushed through her. She could see Angelica, about to reply, when yet another doctor strode into the room, this time to inform them that they had a visitor. 

Like Angelica, Peggy may not have been the greatest at reading people, but in that moment, she swore the three of them could read each other's minds, and it seemed like they all had the same exact thought:  _He's back._

Of course, it wasn't actually their dad. It was a brown-haired woman who introduced herself as Mrs. Matrone. Peggy relaxed and zoned out slightly, only half-listening to the conversation so she could help answer when she needed to. She knew that they wouldn't give her a chance to speak unless they couldn't give a satisfactory answer, and she also knew that they wouldn't listen to her anyways. It almost seemed like they forgot Peggy existed until there was work to be done, a favor needed, an extra hand required to lift a bit of weight. Like she was only a background singer, there to fill out the harmonies of life, the  _ooo_ s and claps and snaps that were lost in the soloist's melodic voice. 

_There you go again, with your stupid music._ Peggy bit her tongue as her father's cruel words echoed in her head. She forced herself not to gasp or yelp, not wanting to draw her sisters' attention. 

_It's not like they would notice if you did,_ her mind snarled, the words an unsettling mixture of her father's sharp insults and her own insecurities that cut into her like knives. She continued to retreat further into her own mind, until she heard a few words that seemed out of place with the conversation that had previously been happening.

"Wonderful," Angelica said, voice loving but sad.

"Absolutely. She was perfect."  _She? Who are they- oh._ When Peggy realized who they were talking about, her mind was flooded with images of dancing and singing in the kitchen, her own chubby toddler hands enclosed in pale, slender fingers. Of graceful white gloves eclipsing her caramel hands as they danced over a piano. Of carefully written music, of two voices meshing perfectly and floating about in the comfort of their living room. The same voices slipping from blue lips as mittened hands held songs of snow and magic. 

Such generic words simply didn't do their mother justice. As they were about to move on to the next question, Peggy had to speak her mind, even though no one had asked for her input.

"She was an angel. There are no words that could possibly describe how incredible she was. If I'm half the woman she was, I'll be more than satisfied." There. Take it or leave it, listen or not, it was out there. Peggy hadn't realized how long she'd been holding that back until she said it. It was like finally taking a breath after being underwater for as long as you could possibly stand. It was a sigh of relief.

Peggy didn't pay any attention to the rest of the conversation until the very end.

 "That's all for now, girls. Angelica, you're supposed to stay here for another day. Peggy, Eliza, you can stay here with her, or you can come with me. For now, you'll be staying at a shelter."

Eliza answered instantly. "I think we'll stay here, If that's alright."

It wasn't like Peggy would've said anything different, but it would've been nice to be asked. To have someone actually care what her opinion was. Sadness and anger started to battle for dominance in her brain. Anger won out. She felt a sudden urge to just explode in Eliza's face, to let all her bottled up frustration at being forgotten and ignore come bursting out of her, to erupt like a volcano of scathing words. But instead, she bit her tongue and let the sadness take over. She sat down in one of the chairs, metal digging into her back and thighs, knees curled against her chest.

* * *

"I guess we have a home now." Peggy couldn't tell if Angelica was joking or not. But her words hung in the air, no one responding. So, although no one had asked her directly, Peggy did.

"I guess we do." She'd gotten better over the past few weeks, but not a lot. Every unprompted response, every time she spoke her mind without waiting for an explicit invitation was half a step forward. But every time she was ignored, every "Oh, I forgot you were even there," every decision made without her was twenty steps back. But she was getting better, and that's what mattered, right? She could do it. It wasn't impossible.

But it sure seemed like it when you were on your own.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the only words spoken to you in the past 24 hours were "I forgot you existed" so you project onto Margarita Schuyler, as one does.
> 
> I think the next chapter will be Maria idk though who do you guys want me to do next?
> 
> I promise the next part won't be so incredibly late.


	4. Don't Let Them Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Burr, like just about everyone else in this story, needs lots of hugs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry that this chapter is super late and super short i've been super busy with my cousin's wedding then school starting up and horse shows etc. etc. etc. so this chapter isn't my best work

Aaron felt around in his backpack for the folded piece of lined paper he always kept with him. After just a couple seconds, his hand grasped the familiar, worn shape. He unfolded it like he had done so many times before. 

The title that ran across the top,  _Aaron_ _Burr's Guidelines for Surviving the Foster Care System_ , was written in wide, round, careful cursive, but if you looked closely, you could barely make out the faint lines of messy, childish handwriting that hadn't been completely erased. Handwriting that matched the first rule:

_Talk less._

He had written it in his first foster house, when he was six. He'd been there for two months, which, to a barely-first-grader, felt like forever. At dinner, his foster mom had lovingly asked how his day at school had gone and listened with an indulgent smile. However, after he had gone on a random tangent one too many times, his foster father had snapped.  _"Why do you have to talk so goddamn much!?"_  The first hit came a week after that night, and it took three weeks after  _that_ for him to be moved.

_Smile more_.

The second rule was written with noticeably neater handwiting, as he'd written it near the end of second grade. It was the second long-term foster home he'd been in. He didn't really know what set this incident off. Maybe he was working too slowly, maybe the woman had just had a bad day at work, maybe it was something else. He really didn't know. All he could remember was that he'd been helping with cleaning up after dinner, as his social worker had wanted him to start "learning to be responsible for himself" or whatever. They'd been working in silence, when suddenly his foster mom had turned to him and started yelling.  _"What the hell is wrong with you?" "W-what?" "Since you walked through that door, you've barely said a word and you haven't smiled once since you got here! What the hell?"_ Tears in his eyes, he ran to his room. The next morning, he woke up to his social worker standing in the living room.

_Wait for it._

Neat, small letters. Fourth grade. Nine years old. It wasn't one isolated incident that led to this rule, but many. An endless stream of  _"Wait your turn, you go last, we eat first, wait till I tell you, you're not done yet, you can't start yet."_ Countless bruises and scars that littered his torso, his arms, his face, his legs. Pain, so much pain, all caused by going too fast, by being reckless, by not waiting. 

_Don't let them know (what you're against or what you're for)._

An angry, spiky scrawl. His last foster home. Fourteen. The first part he'd written after months of being confused, then a bunch of research, then months of being scared, then finally working up the courage to come out to his foster parents.  _"You're not 'asexual' or whatever millennial liberal bullshit! You're broken, that's what you are!_ The second part was after politics somehow came up during dinner. Needless to say, that didn't go well, and he still had the cast and the bruise blossoming across his chest to prove it.

Those were his only four rules. One for each of his long-term homes. He was definitely not excited, but maybe a bit curious to see what this home would lead to.

"What's that?" His social worker's voice cut into his thoughts. 

"Nothing," Burr snapped defensively.

"Well, you'd better put it away. We're here. C'mon."

Aaron stuffed the paper in his bag and clambered out of the car. "This... this is it?" he asked, shocked.

"What, not as big as you expected?" The older man gave a small chuckle.

"It's..." Aaron trailed off. The house - no, mansion - in front of him was without a doubt the largest house he'd ever stayed in, but it was still completely dwarfed by the sprawling grounds and stately, foreboding buildings that surrounded it.

"I know, kid. I know." The two stood there in silence, Burr still gaping at the house. "Well, what're we waiting for? Let's go!"

Aaron wanted to go, he really did, he wanted to see what the inside of this place was like, but something kept him frozen to his feet. Something was wrong, something was off, something felt bad about this place."How many other kids are here?"

"Just three, but I think Mr. Washington said there are gonna be more soon." Well, that was a good sign. Maybe this place wouldn't be so bad after all. Still a bit dazed from the sheer size and the grandeur of the houses surrounding him, he basically floated forward.  _Maybe,_ he kept thinking. _M_ _aybe,_ he thought as he continued forward, and the gates clanged shu- oh.  _Oh._  Gates? _Gates?_ Oh no.  _Oh_ _no._  

Maybe not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, now that this is done, we can get on to the good stuff 


	5. When You Knock Me Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Herc also needs endless blankets and comfort.
> 
> I still want to punch James Reynolds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if this isn't my best writing, but I've been rather shaken and enraged by the recent actions of a certain evil Cheeto. 
> 
> Also I'm (not) sorry.

"Shhh. It's okay, Mam. You're going to be okay." Hercules stroked his mother's hair as she moaned in pain. She'd been sick for a while, she had a fairly high fever and severe headaches and the most they could do for it was give her a few Ibuprofen until they had enough money to pay for a visit to the doctor, which, with five kids to feed and clothe, didn't look like it would be anytime soon.

Hercules was already working two jobs, as a waiter at a local diner and a cashier at the Stop & Shop down the road, but he was trying to find another. He could occasionally mow lawns or walk dogs or shovel snow for a few extra bucks, which he often did around birthdays and Christmas, but he needed another source of steady income. But for now, the jobs he had would have to be enough.

To get money from those jobs, though, he had to actually go to them. Which meant leaving his mom. "Hey. Anna. Wake up." He spoke softly to his sleeping sister, the oldest apart from him, wanting to wake her gently. When she groggily opened her eyes, he spoke even quieter to avoid waking any of his other siblings. "I gotta go. Watch over Mom, okay?" She nodded slowly.

He reluctantly left the house with his mom in the care of Anna. His jobs were both late, so he was out from 9:30 to 3:00 every night. But at least he got to spend the days taking care of his mom, so that his younger siblings didn't have to.

He walked down to the diner, since he had no extra money to take the bus. It wasn't a bad walk, a bit over half a mile, but in the freezing winters and sweltering summers, it was torture. He waited table until midnight before retracing his path, walking past his house, and down to the Stop & Shop where he worked until almost 3:30. It was exhausting, but it paid him enough to get by.

Normally, that was when he went home and got a few precious hours of sleep before waking up to take care of everyone. During most of the year he would have to go to school, leaving his mom under the watch of the kind older woman who lived near them. In the summers, he always stayed with her.

Today was a slightly different case. He decided to stop at the library to use the computers, but mostly just to spend some time relaxing in an air-conditioned building. Once he got there, he hopped on one of the computers. he was occasionally able to find people with odd jobs that needed to be done. Eventually, he found an ad.

**_Weekly help needed with physical labor and household chores_ **

**_Email: jreynolds@gmail.com_ **

**_Phone number: 439-1753_ **

Physical labor. He was strong. He could do physical labor. Weekly was good. He punched in the number.

" _Hello, this is James Reynolds._ " The man picked up so quickly it caught Hercules slightly off guard. 

"Oh, uh, hi, um, I, uh, saw your ad on Craigslist about um, the, uh, help you needed?"

James' voice immediately changed. It became oily and slick. " _Wonderful. Can we meet tomorrow to discuss the details?"_

* * *

Hercules entered the dingy diner, looking around for James. Eventually, he saw a middle-aged man sitting alone in a booth. As most of the other customers were in groups or pairs, he assumed that he'd found Reynolds. He walked over and slid into the booth.

"Um, are you James Reynolds?"

"Yes, I take it you're Hercules?" Herc nodded. Reynolds looked him up and down in a way that made Hercules want to draw into himself, cover himself. "Wonderful. You'll do  _very_ nicely." His voice made Herc's skin crawl.

James pulled out a stack of bills. It looked like over a hundred dollars. "Two hundred and fifty dollars. That's your weekly payment."  _I could get his mom medicine. I could get Jay that new coat he needs. I could get a real present for Cat's birthday. Hugh needs a new pair of shoes, too. Anna was starting to lose weight, she definitely needs more food. I need that money._

"What do I, how can I, what do you want?" Is his shock, he stumbled over his words, phrasing the question wrong. He was about to correct himself when Reynolds answered.

It was one word. It was a simple, three letter word. But it made Herc sick to think about, it made him want to throw up. But he needed that money, he needed it for his siblings, for his mom. He squared his shoulders and nodded.

* * *

 "Maria, dear, this is Hercules. He'll be helping with some chores around the house." Hercules was stunned. Maria, James'  _wife_ , looked no older than Hercules. She was younger, if anything. She wouldn't meet his eyes, but he could see the bags under them. Her body was littered with bruises, and she looked so small, so fragile, so  _broken_ that Herc wanted to hug her.

It was clear, incredibly clear that Reynolds was not a good man. But Hercules couldn't see how anyone could marry a child, or could force a child into marriage. Wasn't that illegal? That had to be illegal. 

His thoughts were suddenly cut off by a firm hand on his shoulder. "C'mon, Hercules, I'll show you what your...  _duties_ are."

* * *

"Mam, did you take your medicine?" Hercules' mother nodded slightly. She was barely able to move. She'd been taking the medicine for several months, and her physical health had been steadily getting better. Herc had been seeing Reynolds for several moths, and his mental health had been steadily getting worse. He and Maria had formed a tentative friendship in the little time they got to spent together, and they'd each shared their stories. She was the first friend Hercules had had in a while, and despite the awful circumstances, he had to admit that it was nice. And it was getting him money, and money meant food, it meant medicine, and that had been enough.

Except recently, it hadn't been. His mom's health had very suddenly gotten worse, and no one knew why. They'd upped the dosage of medicine, they'd switched medication,  they'd tried everything. But she'd had to stop working, which meant less food, and far fewer of the non-necessities, like new coats and school supplies, that Herc's job with Reynolds had afforded them before. Hercules was starting to think about working with Reynolds twice a week. Maybe more.

"Okay, I gotta get to work. I'll see you later. Anna, I gotta go, watch over her." With that, Hercules slipped out the front door. Time for work. Diner, Stop & Shop, then Reynolds. 

He was only halfway through his shift at the diner when he got The Call. 

"Hey Anna. What's up?"

_"It's Mom. She-I-I-"_

"Anna. Calm down. It's okay. Breathe. Just tell me what happened."

_"Mom's fever got worse. She stopped moving, she was barely breathing. I know we don't have the money, but, but I called an ambulance. I didn't know what else to do."_

"It's okay, Anna. You did the right thing. I'll be there soon." He was on auto pilot after that. Telling the (very understanding, thankfully) owner of the diner that he needed to leave, calling in sick to his other job, texting Reynolds. Getting in a taxi he knew he couldn't afford, paying the driver money he needed for food. Pushing open the hospital door, checking in at the front desk, finding his siblings waiting together outside a room.

He looked at their tear-stained faces, and, without any of them saying a word, he sank down the wall to the floor beside them. They all sat there in a tense silence for what probably felt like far longer than it was. 

A small part of Hercules' mind couldn't help but be amused at how cliché it was. The doctor had come out of the room holding a clipboard. They'd all looked up at him hopefully. He slowly, solemnly shook his head. I mean, he was  _holding a clipboard!_

Most of him, however, just felt empty. Numb. He couldn't absorb the fact that _She died. She's dead. She's not coming back._ He started to feel tears in the corner of his eyes. But one look at his siblings, and he blinked them away.  _Stay strong, Mulligan. Stay strong for them._

* * *

"Herc. Hercules. Wake up. We're here." His social worker's soft voice gently woke him. He glanced out the window and saw an enormous house, complete with wrought-iron gates, a circular driveway, and two pillars framing the front door. 

"Is... Is this it?" Mr. Durand, the social worker, chuckled softly at Hercules' incredulous voice.

"Yup. We'd better get inside. We don't wanna make a bad first impression," he said, mostly teasing but with a bit of an accusatory edge to his voice. Hercules hadn't meant to say anything, he really hadn't. It just slipped out.

"It's not like it matters anyway." Mr. Durand's face dropped. 

"Whaddya mean, Herc? Why?" Hercules Knew he was being ridiculous. He knew that. But at the same time, he couldn't help but be less than optimistic. All his siblings were already in long-term foster homes, and Hugh, the youngest, had already been adopted. Hercules had been in three foster homes, and none had lasted over two weeks. He knew why, it was because-

"Because no one wants to foster a teen who let himself get raped for money." His words came out far sharper than he'd meant them to. In fact, he hadn't meant for them to come out at all. He'd never said that to anyone. But it was true. No one wanted him. 

"Hercules." His social worker's stern tone caught Hercules' attention. "I know that your previous foster homes haven't worked out, and that may be because they weren't equipped to deal with your... issues. But the Washingtons already have several foster kids, and they are more than used to dealing with this stuff. This is gonna be different, I promise." 

Hercules sighed. Mr. Durand didn't get it. He never had, he never would. No one wanted him, and Hercules couldn't blame them. He was disgusting. he was dirty, he was broken. he was- "Fine. Let's go meet them," Hercules said in a defeated tone. The two walked up to the front doors. The walk felt simultaneously incredibly long and far too short.

Hercules raised a hesitant hand and gave the door three quick knocks. It opened almost immediately. The man who opened it- George, Hercules assumed- was rather intimidating in appearance, but had a relaxed, kind air that put Hercules somewhat at ease.

"Hello, Hercules, was it? I'm George Washington. It's a pleasure to meet you." He held out his large hand. Hercules hesitantly took it.

"Call me Herc."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay prepare yourselves for a somewhat emotional rant that makes very little sense:  
> I am so furious and, honestly, stunned about the transgender military ban. It disgusts me that the man who somehow became our president, who is supposed represent and protect all Americans could do such a thing. He has done so many awful things, and this has pushed me to my breaking point. I am so done with him. And his reasoning is ABSURD AND COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY WRONG. The costs of paying for transgender-related healthcare is around 0.01 percent of the total the military spends on healthcare. And the government money used to pay for Tr***'s GOLFING TRIPS could easily pay those costs TWENTY TIMES OVER. I AM FURIOUS.
> 
> Now that that's out of the way, OMG FIFTY KUDOS? I KNOW THAT DOESN'T SEEM LIKE A LOT BUT I DIDN'T THINK ANYONE WOULD READ THIS.
> 
> I shamelessly beg you to pretty pretty please with all the things on top leave a comment. Comments are 95% of my motivation to keep writing this.


	6. Say No

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Maria needs a fluffy blanket a hug and maybe some hot cocoa (so does Hercules but we'll learn more about that in the next chapter)
> 
>  
> 
> Also I want to punch James Reynolds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is really short but I didn't want to give you another late chapter.  
> Also I'm just sorry.
> 
> *****TW for child marriage, implied underage rape/non-con, implied eating disorder, abusive relationship, age gap*****

Maria studied herself in the mirror, her mind pointing out every flaw and every way she had changed from the bright-eyed teen she was a couple years ago. First, she looked at her eyes.

_Making heart eyes at her perfect boyfriend, who cares if he was older, he was so caring, so kind._

_Shameful tears filling her eyes, because "Wow, your appetite really is endless." and "Your friends still can't hang out? Wow." wouldn't stop playing on repeat in her head,_

_Lace tactfully covering wide, terrified eyes, she's so young, she's too young, isn't this illegal, they can't do this to her, she's so scared, she's shaking._

_Eyes squeezed shut, oh god no please don't, it hurts it hurts please no, please please no no no stop, she can still feel his careless hands roughly gripping her body._

_Sparkling, relieved eyes, the social worker looks like a knight in shining armor, he's gone, she's finally free thank god._

Tired eyes with a broken look, the innocent girl she used to be long gone, the fear, the flashbacks are too much, she wants it to stop. 

Her lips

_Curved into a shy smile, "I love you too" and she thought she did, because how could she not, he was so sweet, he was wonderful._

_Opening then closing again, trying to find a retort, but she can't, he's right, she should eat less, he'd the only one who cares, but then why does every kiss feel so wrong?_

_Her mouth is glued shut, until his scathing glare somehow opens it, her voice shakes as as she quietly says the two words that seal her fate, "I do."_

_Mouth open wide in a scream, oh god it hurts, but his hand covers it, muffles her voice, and every hope of being saved flies away._

_Moving in the same way over and over, thank you thank you thank you, she's bleeding and weak but a little happiness fills her, just for a moment._

Chapped, turned down into a permanent frown, it rarely opens except for the screams when she's asleep, and it hasn't smiled in far too long.

Her neck is littered with bruises, some from his mouth, most from his hands. Her body is still sore and covered in slowly fading marks from his unforgiving punishments. Her ribs still stick out, although she's been eating a bit more recently. 

"C'mon Maria, Mr. Washington is waiting." A voice cut through her thoughts. Before leaving her room, she carefully applied bright red lipstick.

James had always hated that lipstick.

* * *

"Maria. It's wonderful to finally meet you." The first impression Maria had of George Washington was that he was  _big_. He could easily overpower her, grab her by the neck and press her up against a wall, hands roaming, claiming her body as his - 

Maria snapped herself out of it before she had a panic attack.  _That wound certainly be a great first impression,_ she thought sarcastically. After a few (hopefully subtle) breathing exercises, she responded.

"It's, uh, it's nice to meet you too." Some voice in her mind told her that she should probably shake his hand, but the mere thought of being touched had her on the edge of a panic attack once more.

"Maria, are you alright?" She knew his voice was meant to be reassuring, but all she could think was  _Oh god he noticed oh god he's gonna touch me._ However, to her surprise, he didn't. "Maria, can I touch you?" When she responded with a violent shake of her head, he took a different route. "Can you breathe with me?" He started to take loud, exaggerated breaths which Maria did her best to match. After she calmed down, she noticed the impressed look that her social worker was giving George.

"S-sorry about that, Mr. Washington." She tried and failed to keep the shake out of her voice. 

"It's really no problem, Maria. And please, call me George. As you probably know, I'm here because I want to foster you, if you're okay with that."

"Well, um, it's just, um, well, will it just be the two of us?" She couldn't, absolutely could not live alone with this, huge, muscular man. 

"Most definitely not. It's me, my wife Martha, my child Lafayette, and quite a few foster kids. Angelica, Eliza, and Peggy, - they're sisters - Aaron, John, and Hercules."  _Martha. Angelica. Eliza. Peggy. My wife. Sisters. There are girls there. Wait, did he say Hercules?_

"Oh. That's certainly a lot of people. This might sound a bit crazy, but would Hercules happen to be Hercules Mulligan?" Maria was too stunned to be nervous anymore. Hercules wasn't really a very common name, was it?

"Yes, actually. Poor thing was working three jobs to support his whole family when his mother died. All his siblings went to different foster homes, but they still see each other sometimes. Do you know him?" George sounded confused.

_"Maria, dear, this is Hercules. He'll be helping with some chores around the house." James looked at him with the same hunger which he'd had in his eyes the night he married Maria._

_Later, there were screams which sounded far too young to be James, and a familiar groaning and grunting that Maria heard all too often._

_The poor boy left the house with the same broken look in his eyes that Maria found whenever she looked in a mirror._

"Yeah. Yeah, I do know him." In that moment, Maria made her decision. She was going to live with the Washingtons. With Hercules. As much for him as for her. They both needed someone who understood.

"So?" Maria hadn't even realized he was talking. Glancing at the clock, she realized that almost twenty minutes had passed. "Do you want to come with me?"

"Yes. I do."

"Wonderful! I'll be back in a few days."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I M S O R R Y
> 
> Also 550 hits? This is insane I didn't even think anyone would read this.


	7. To Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is a smol gay bean who needs protection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is late I'm sorry please don't be mad
> 
> *****TW for homophobia, homophobic slurs, internalized homophobia, mentions of conversion therapy, and implied child abuse (nothing graphic)*****
> 
> Could I make the adults in this fic nicer? Yes. Am I going to? No.

"D-dad?"

"Yes, Jacky?" Henry Laurens always had been rather fond of his eldest son, which made what John was about to do a lot harder. He always did everything to make his father proud, to be who his father wanted him to be. He was captain of the football team, he was a straight-a student, he was going to go to law school and follow in his father's footsteps and become a senator. 

It was also difficult because he knew his father's views on, well, basically anyone who wasn't conservative, straight, white, rich and christian. But maybe, just maybe, it would be different when it was his own son. Maybe nothing would change. Maybe everything would be okay.

"I, um, I need to tell you something." His father's affectionate smile turned into a look of concern at John's worried tone.

"Anything, Jacky. Come sit down. What is it?" Jack slowly set himself down on an armchair across from his father, not wanting to sit next to him on the couch. He was trying to figure out how to tell him when Henry suddenly interrupted with a knowing smile. "I know what this is about."

"Y-you do!?" John spluttered incredulously.  _Does he know? How could he know? What's he gonna do? He's smiling, that's good, right?_

"This is about that girl next door, isn't it? You two are dating, right? I always knew you'd end up together. She's a nice young lady, very polite. I approve." At that, John had to hold back a laugh. Martha was the first person he'd told about this. She had simply responded by saying "me too." 

"A-actually, no." His father looked surprised.

"Well, what is it then?" 

"I, um, I'm, I'm g-gay."

That was the night John Laurens learned how to cover a bruise with makeup.

* * *

John squinted across the deserted green. It was the night after he'd come out, and when Henry had pulled out the whiskey, John knew better than to stick around. He'd fled out the front door and to the small park on the other side of his small town. He'd been sitting there, thinking, for who-knows-how-long. His internal monologue had gone something like this: _You're disgusting. You're a freak. You're unnatural. You could have at least kept this a secret. If anyone else finds out, your father is done for. His career is over. God at least your mom isn't alive to see this. To see how selfish and greedy and disgusting you are._

It would've kept up like that, too, had John not spotted a silhouette at the other end of the park.  

A  _familiar_ silhouette.

A familiar,  _limping_ silhouette.

"Martha?" he called across the empty grass. The figure turned their head, cropped curls swinging as they did. 

"John!" She started to walk across the grass, slowly due to her clearly injured leg. John motioned for her to sit down, then got up and walked over, ignoring his many aching bruises. His friend was clearly in much greater pain than he was, so he could deal. He could deal.

"What happened?" She was asking, but it almost looked like she didn't want him to answer. Or maybe she already knew the answer.

"I... I told him. Last night. He- he didn't like it." John shrunk into himself as the last sentence fell from his lips. "You?"

"I told my mom. She's telling my dad tonight. I didn't want to be there."

John opened his mouth, but quickly closed it. He don't know what to say. The silence hung between them, heavy and bordering on oppressive. But not quite.

"We'll- we'all get away. From them. Eventually." It didn't matter what happened to their parents' reputations. If Martha didn't deserve this s, John didn't either.

Martha looked up to meet his eyes. He thought he could see the slightest glimmer of hope in them. "Eventually."

John started to lean in, as if he was about to kiss her. When his lips were millimeters from hers, he stopped.

And they both started cracking up.

"For a second I- I actually thought that you- you were going to-"

"I know- I- ohmigod-"

Soon they were both doubled over laughing for reasons neither of them quite understood. But for that moment, that fleeting moment, they both felt almost like normal teenagers. Like teenagers whose futures weren't shrouded in uncertainty. Like teenagers who weren't afraid to go home.

* * *

John was out late. Until 10:33, exactly eighteen minutes past his curfew. If he was lucky, his dad would be asleep, and he would get to deal with a well-rested, hopefully not hungover Henry Laurens in the morning.

He had no such luck.

He opened the door slowly, knowing exactly where to stop before it started creaking, and expertly skipped over the loud floorboards on the way to the stairs, footsteps as light as a feather. He got to the fifth stair before he heard his father's southern drawl coming from the kitchen.

"Jacky, are you home? Iz l-late." His words were slurred, and he was clearly drunk.

"Yeah, Dad. I'm just gonna go up to bed now." John knew he was pushing his luck here, but he wanted to get out of this without a beating.

"I don't think so." His voice was harsher this time, sharper and angrier. "C'mere, you little faggot."

 John winced at the word. His father was not only drunk, but he seemed angrier than usual, if possible.  _But why? Did he see something?_ _Hear something? What could it be?_

Since that fateful confession a few months ago, he'd had to be even more careful of his actions both in public and around his father. If Henry didn't like his outfit, he got a beating. If he was talking "too faggoty," as Henry had so eloquently phrased it, he got a beating. If Henry caught him drawing, he got a beating. If Henry caught him crying, he got a beating. If John was anything less than the perfect, straight-A football star than he'd been his whole life, he got a beating. If he  _was_ perfect, and Henry was just in a bad mood, he got a beating. So John had been careful, more than careful. But maybe something had gotten out.

"I-I'm coming, Dad." John slowly turned around, descended the stairs, and started towards the kitchen. When he got to the doorway, he paused for a moment, bracing himself, before stepping inside. He was greeted with a more-than-familiar sight: His father sitting at the counter, hunched over a bottle.

"Dad?" John winced at how shaky and scared his voice sounded. If the past few months had taught him anything useful, it was that showing you were scared was the worst thing you could do during a fight.

"J-Jack. Wha- wuz this?" His father thrusted his phone shakily towards John. He hesitated before grabbing it. He found himself looking at a news article, titled - John's breath caught in his throat.

 **"Is John Laurens - Son Of Conservative Senator Henry Laurens - Gay?"** the blocky black letters read. Normally, John would just brush it off as a stupid news article, but underneath the title was a picture that, although blurry, was clearly him, kissing another boy.

"Jack." Henry's voice was firmer, stronger, surer now. It was also quieter, barely a whisper. A hiss. "Do you realize what you've done? Do you realize what this could do? This could ruin my career, Jack!"

"Dad, I, I," John stuttered.

"THIS COULD RUIN ME!" Henry roared. John decided that it would be best to get away from his father. He started slowly backing away, then turned around and ran. As he exited the kitchen, he heard shattering glass and felt several sharp stings along his back and arms. Her ignored it and continued to flee upstairs. 

Once he got up to his room and locked the door, he felt a thousand times safer. He slowly approached his mirror and turned around, not sure if he wanted to look.

That was the night John learned how to get glass shards out of his back.

* * *

"Jacky." His father was smiling his cold, snakelike smile as John walked down the stairs. He'd wanted to avoid seeing his father, but he needed food. So here he was, standing in front of the man who had just last night left him bleeding. "I need to talk to you about what happened last night." At this point, John knew better than to think Henry would apologize, but he didn't know what else his father might say. 

"I have tried to convince you to take a different path in life. I have tried to convince you that this is not a good choice," John bit back his retort. "But to no avail. I have decided that it is time for you to be  _fixed_ once and for all."

"W-what?" _Fixed? What does that mean?_

"Jack, I'm sending you to conversion therapy. I can't have you putting my career in danger."

* * *

 "John, Vivian is here!" John glanced around the room, making sure he had everything, before grabbing his several bags and walking downstairs to meet his social worker. On the way down, shouts and noise floated from every room he passed. He certainly wouldn't miss it here. A month was more than long enough.

It hadn't been terrible, exactly, but it was always chaotic. John figured that that was hard to avoid when there were twenty kids, none older than eighteen, living in the same house. The house he was going to had only - six? seven? - kids.

Once he walked downstairs, he was greeted by the woman who ran the home talking to a woman with bright blue hair that identified her as John's social worker. She turned around when she heard him arrive. 

"Hey John! Do you have all your stuff?" He gave an almost imperceptible nod. "Wonderful! Let's go!" She grabbed his elbow and practically dragged him out to her car. 

The first few minutes of the ride were just as awkward as John had expected. She asked generic questions, he gave mumbled one-word answers.

"Don't feel like talking today, huh?" She took her eyes off the road for just a moment to glance at the boy sitting next to her.

"Not really."

"I don't blame you. That place seemed pretty chaotic."

They sat in silence for a few more minutes before Vivian spoke once more. "We're gonna be here for a few more hours, so why don't we get to know each other?"

"Well, I'd say you already know me pretty well. Better than I'd like you to, in fact," John retorted bitterly. 

"What'd'ya mean?"

"You've read my file, haven't you?" 

"Well, yeah, but that just means I know what's happened to you. I don't know you." John didn't react. "You aren't defined by what people have done to you."

With that, the two fell into easy conversation. John found out that he and Vivian had a lot in common. They were both only children but wished they weren't, they both loved art, they both wanted to visit Germany, and they were both half-Argentinian. Time flew as they talked, and they had arrived at the Washingtons' before he knew it. 

"You ready?" 

John hesitated for a moment before answering. "Yeah. Yes, I'm ready." Vivian's smile was blinding. 

"Let's go!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know John had four siblings it's called artistic license okay
> 
> Please lave comments and kudos! Thanks for reading!


	8. My Shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex's story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First chapter! It's kinda awful, but I tried.

There was screaming and crying and yelling and Alexander Hamilton was sitting in his room, terrified. His mother was sobbing and his father was yelling and the air was thick with the smell of misery. Then there was a jingling and footsteps and then a loud slam and then silence.

And his father was gone.

* * *

 

There was movement and light footsteps and the occasional mumble and Alexander Hamilton was lying in his bed, asleep. He woke up and James was tiptoeing around the room and the air was thick with the smell of nervousness. Then James kissed him on the head and promised he'd find "Papa" and bring him back and a door gently closing and then silence.

And his brother was gone.

* * *

 

There was heavy breathing and rustling fabric and the occasional moan or wail of pain and Alexander Hamilton was sitting on the only bed, in agony. His mother was mumbling and he was crying and the air was thick with the smell of death. Then Alex felt better so he started mumbling to his mother but there was a piercing cry and then silence.

And his mother was gone.

* * *

 

There was sobbing and muttering and pacing and Alexander Hamilton was sitting on his bed writing. His computer keys were clicking and his cousin was trying not to wake him and the air was thick with the smell of blood. Then there was a loud CRACK and a sharp scream and then silence.

And his cousin was gone.

* * *

 

It's pretty easy to see why Alexander Hamilton was always wary of silence. So when his social worker told him to stop talking, it was hard for him not to feel a bit uncomfortable in the quiet car. He'd been driving for hours, and for most of it he had been asleep. Now, however, he was all too aware of the deafening lack of noise.

After what felt like years more of driving, the car stopped. Alex groggily surveyed the neighborhood where they had arrived. When he started to really take in what he was seeing, he woke up in an instant. He was surrounded by huge houses- not even houses, mansions. Perfect green lawns, trimmed hedges, brick paths, stone fountains, iron gates. He stepped out of the car, more than aware of how out of place he must look next to the huge, fancy houses. 

"Come on Al, we don't have much time. We don't want to keep these people waiting all night," Carlos, his social worker, said irritably.

"What were their names again?" Alex, though he knew Carlos had probably told him at some point, had completely forgotten their names.

"Al, you really have to remember this stuff. They're George and Martha Washington."

"Will they—is it—are they—good?" Alex inquired, trusting that Carlos would hear the hidden meaning in his question.

Carlos heard it. His face instantly softened. "Oh, Al. They've got a bunch of kids here. They're gonna be great. Just you wait." Alex, though reassured by Carlos's kind words, didn't dare to believe that this home would be any better than the previous— what was it now, ten?— but he decided it was safe to hope that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't be worse.

The walk up the long brick path leading up to the front door seemed to be both endless and far too short. The door was in between two enormous pillars, and had an intricate wrought iron design to match the gates.  _The gates. The enormous locked gates that I can't escape out of. The gates that are just like the ones that the K- nope nope nope_ not _thinking about that._

Carlos reached out and rang the doorbell. A few seconds of muffled talking then loud footsteps later, the door opened. Alex tensed. The man standing there was  _huge_. He was tall, muscular, powerful,  _dangerous._ The man stuck his hand out.

"George Washington, pleasure to meet you. You're Alexandria, right?" His voice was big and booming, it matched his rippling muscles perfectly. Alex opened his mouth to say something.  _Don't argue with the parents, make a good impression._ Alex closed his mouth hung his head, and was about to say yes when—

"I'm terribly sorry sir, his file hasn't been updated yet, this is Alexander." Alex looked up at Carlos, eternally grateful for the kind man. He then looked at George, to see his reaction. His eyebrows raised slightly, but he quickly resumed his welcoming expression.

"My apologies, Alex." His voice truly sounded remorseful. It wasn't disgusted, or angry. Alex was shocked. Maybe this place wouldn't be so bad after all... _Or it's just an act and George doesn't want to look bad in front of the social worker._

"Well, I really need to go, but Al, you have my number, right?" Alex nodded. After a beat of silence, Carlos turned around.

And Carlos was gone.

But this time, maybe it wasn't quite as bad.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Yeah, I guess?


End file.
